


A name to be proud of

by quantumoddity



Series: there is so much more [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forgiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have a sister but I want a little brother-"<br/>"Okay!"</p><p>Okay so this is basically those two lines turned into a fic. You'll have to forgive me, I'm just such a sucker for Hamilton family cuteness. So this is a modern AU of Alex and Eliza deciding to have Alex Jr. I'm not a historian (and am too lazy to so research) so if I've messed up the ages of the children or times of year or anything I apologise sincerely. Also, sorry I'm pretty awful at structuring stuff, I'm hoping I get better the more I do this. Hope you enjoy, comments are appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“When did I blink and miss knowing how to do a braid becoming important in government work?”

“Hush up and quit moving your head, honey, I’ve almost got it.”

Eliza huffed and crossed her arms in silent admission of defeat, trying not to wince as Alex took another handful of her hair. She couldn’t see what was going on up there on top of her head but she’d bet any amount of money it wasn’t going well.

She was only annoyed because her husband had pulled her away from her work in order to mess with her hair for some reason he’d yet to let her in on. She’d been deep in her latest proposal for the board of directors at the orphanage when he’d come up to pull her into their bedroom (the light was better in there apparently) with big puppy dog eyes, a packet of hair ties and a WikiHow article on French braids. Not wanting to admit to Alex that she was still taking on all the extra work she could to prove to the board she was more than a dumb little rich kid who’d only got a Sociology degree because her senator daddy had told her to, she’d followed. Now she was trapped.

She was sat on the bed, facing the door, with Alex kneeling behind her, fingers deep in her long dark hair so she noticed Phillip pad into the room first. Eliza could have counted down the five seconds it took for little Angie to come crawling in after her brother; following him around devotedly was all she’d been doing since she’d gained mobility a week ago.

“Hello you two,” she smiled affectionately as Phillip came up to her, resting his chin on his mom’s knees, blinking his big brown eyes up at her. They were so much Alex’s eyes it was a little scary, Eliza wondered if she’d ever get used to it.

“Mommy, why is daddy making snakes out of your hair?” Phillip chirped innocently, tilting his head like a puppy. That was his name for braids and ponytails. He’d have Eliza turn her fingers into claws and chase him around while she snarled as some monstrous Gorgon whenever she had them in.

“Hey!” Alex yelped in mock incredulity, taking a break to lean past Eliza and scoop up his daughter, bringing her up onto the bed with him, “They’re pretty good for a first attempt, aren’t they, Angel?”

Little Angelica gurgled something indistinct but even her muddled two year old’s language clearly expressed distain for her dad’s efforts.

“Oh, what do you know,” Alex grumbled playfully, pulling her close and giving her Eskimo kisses until she squealed happily.

“He askes a good question though,” Eliza pointed out, winding her fingers through her son’s curls. They weren’t his father’s exactly but they weren’t anywhere on her family tree. One day, back when they’d first started growing in, Alex had burst into tears for a reason he hadn’t said out loud but she’d guessed.

“Why exactly are you assaulting my hair?”

Alex sniffed but smiled a little sheepishly, “Well, I’ve got a daughter now, haven’t I? I want to know stuff like this for when she’s a little older so I can do her hair nice, y’know?”

Eliza blinked, craning her head back so she could look at Alexander. He shrugged a little modestly.

She instantly forgave him for everything. He really could be so earnest and sweet sometimes, her Alexander. She twisted a little so she could pull him in for a kiss, prompting a wrinkled nose and a loud groan of disgust from Phillip. As he approached six years old, he was becoming less and less tolerant of his parents’ frequent public displays of affection.

“Aw, you’ll understand when you’re older, kiddo,” Alex teased as he pulled away, reaching over to ruffle those wild corkscrew curls.

“No I won’t!” Phillip protested insistently, “It’s gross, I _don’t like girls_.”

“Yeah, I used to think that too,” Alex chuckled quietly to Eliza, raising his eyebrows.

She snorted with laughter, shaking her head. She thought this might be different, though you never knew she supposed. Phillip was just in a phase, one of those little kids went through where the opposite sex and everything associated with them became repellent for some reason.

Eliza narrowed her eyes playfully at Alex.

“I’ve had a thought,” she announced, twisting deftly. In an instant, she’d pinned Alex to the bed as he yelped in surprise. Angie and Phillip giggled excitedly, clambering onto their dad, helping to weigh him down.

“Mutiny!” Alex cried in disbelief, pretending to struggle.

“I don’t see why I have to be the only one to suffer. Seems to me you’ve got plenty of hair for a braid, my Alex,” Eliza laughed, snatching the hair ties from him.

Alex groaned. Phillip laughed his little boy’s hyena laugh. Angie just liked the noise, joining in eagerly.

Those pictures (captioned ‘you want this man in charge of your banks?’) would circulate among their friends for a long, long time, always managing to crop up again at nearly every party.

 -

The question ‘what do you want for your birthday’ was possibly the most important one a nearly six year old could be asked, apparently. Ever since Eliza had asked him that over breakfast this morning, Phillip’s face had been furrowed in an expression of extreme concentration as he mulled it over. He’d even stopped shovelling cereal into his mouth to think about it, which was very, very rare. He’d promised to have an answer by the time he came home from school.

Eliza couldn’t believe her little baby boy was in school already. She’d cried buckets on his first day, Alex had even took the morning off to sit with her and let her cry herself out on his shoulder (though he’d took up at least two boxes of tissues himself). At least she had little Angie to keep her company now, to tag along with her to the store or the park or the coffee house. She’d even been deemed old enough to play in one corner of Eliza’s office at the orphanage while her mom got some work done (though writing proposals and reports was significantly more difficult when a cheeky little two year old was trying to snatch your pen).

But once four o’ clock rolled around, she got both her little ones back and all was right with the world. That evening they were baking cookies. Well, Eliza was baking; Phillip and Angie were sneaking chocolate chips and making handprints in the spilled flour. Just as she was sliding the baking tray into the oven, the door to the apartment opened and Alex’s heavy footprints echoed through the living room into the kitchen.

“Good evening!” he sang brightly as he walked in, looking as bedraggled as he always did at the end of the day, as if his work involved physically fighting rather than verbally (though it was a fine line sometimes with Alex).

Eliza raised her eyebrows in surprise as both children screamed with delight and ran to tackle their father to the ground in welcome. Once he’d struggled free she waded in, throwing her arms around his neck as they kissed.

“You’re early?” she inquired after they’d (eventually) pulled apart.

He shrugged, “Well, you know, it’s Friday.”

Eliza knew that look, “Got kicked out of another meeting, huh?”

“That’s neither here nor there,” he muttered, blushing.

Eliza sighed but kissed him again. Whatever. She had her husband back for a few extra hours; she wasn’t going to complain.

“Wow, what are we baking?” Alex asked, taking in the mess in the kitchen as he bent to pick up his daughter who clung to him like a koala. Fortunately he didn’t notice her hands leaving smudges of flour across the lapels of his favourite jacket as he kissed her forehead.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Eliza replied as she gathered up the bowls and spoons, knowing that would put a smile on his face.

“Aw yeah!” Alex crowed, holding up a fist to Phillip for him to bump, which he did enthusiastically (something he’d picked up from his Uncle John).

So the Hamiltons set about trying to pull the kitchen back into some kind of order as the smells of sugar and chocolate filled the room. Once things had reached some semblance of tidiness, Eliza and Alex leaned against the counter drinking tea, both incredibly close, slightly closer than was strictly necessary. Phillip ambled over and stood in front of them, standing straight as if her were about to deliver a speech to Congress. He even cleared his throat.

“I’ve decided what I want for my birthday,” he announced, puffing his little chest out.

“Um, have you?” Eliza replied, a little taken aback that her little son had apparently turned into an orator. She looked towards Alex; she’d never seen quite so much pride shining in his eyes.

Phillip nodded emphatically, “I want a little brother.”

He didn’t quite understand why his father burst out laughing and why his mother’s face turned red and her head fell into her hands.

“I think the cookies are ready,” Eliza said quickly, moving to the oven, leaving Alex having to hold onto the kitchen counter to keep his feet.

-

“I was going to grab a shower,” Alex smiled, coming up to lean on the back of the chair Eliza was curled up in, “Want to join me?”

She looked up at him over the edge of her book with a languid smile, reaching up a hand to rest gently against his jaw, like a she was considering, “I’d love to.”

He grinned eagerly, taking her hand in his and pulling her along into the bathroom. Maya Angelou was abandoned for the night.

While the water warmed up and the small bathroom filled with steam, the two of them undressed. They both knew well by now how this went. Alex liked to undress Eliza himself, undoing buttons with shaking hands, pulling back her shirt, fumbling with the clasp of her bra, stepping back a little to spend a few moments enjoying the sight of her in her underwear. He loved to unfurl her, like he was discovering, exploring. Eliza, on the other hand, loved to sit back and watch Alex undress, biting her lip and sitting on her hands while running her eyes over the whole length of him, following the grain of the dark hair leading down to the thicket at the junction of his legs, not letting herself touch him until he was completely naked. Delayed gratification, she loved it.

Neither of them wanted to wait long however and it wasn’t more than ten minutes before they were under the warm spray, kissing deeply and deliberately, Alex pressed against the wall, Eliza pinning his arms above his head, their fingers threading together. Things were going well until Eliza got a little over enthusiastic, the floor slick under her bare feet, and she tripped slightly, bumping Alex’s nose with her’s. After a moment’s pause, they both began to giggle uncontrollably, falling against each other as their shoulders shook.

“Sorry, I’ve had the giggles ever since Phillip said that thing,” Alex sighed, his hands gently circling over the curve of her hips.

“Oh God, yeah,” Eliza sniggered, “He’s too much like you for his own good.”

“Ah, don’t remind me.”

Then a thought occurred to Eliza, a thought that she hadn’t realised had been building in the back of her mind ever since her son had put in his unusual request that afternoon. It dawned in her brain and fell out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“What if we did?” she said quietly.

Alex stopped, unsure if he’d heard her right over the sound of the running water. His face turned confused as he pushed back her sodden hair from her face, “What if we did what?”

She could feel her cheeks turning red and was wondering if she should have said anything at all. But what the hell.

“What if we had another one? Another baby?”

He looked a little taken aback at first but comprehension quickly dawned, his eyes becoming shiny, his mouth upturning in a bewildered smile.

“Are you serious, Eliza?”

She nodded, a little surprised herself to find she was actually deadly serious.

Alex looked like he was struggling with several different emotions at once. “We’ve got a busy time ahead of us if Washington wins the election…you’re doing so well with the orphanage…we might have to move, this place is hardly big enough for, God help us, three kids…” Alex mused aloud, playing with a strand of his hair, running it through his fingers, like he always did when he was agitated.

Eliza bit her lip. Maybe she really shouldn’t have said anything.

“But do…do you want to?” she asked, hesitantly.

Alex looked at her, his eyes full of absolute, perfect certainty and such raw joy it was almost painful. Tears began to fall from his deep brown eyes, mixing with the shower water, rivers down his cheeks.

“Of course I do, Eliza. Of course I do,” he said, his voice thick.

He kissed her so hard, she was nearly lifted off of her feet, like he was never, ever going to let her go.

“Like, right now?” Eliza laughed, once they finally ran out of air.

Alex’s gaze turned heated and his eyes ran up and down her body, “Not just yet.”

Suddenly, it was Eliza who was against the wall, her back pressed to the tile, and Alex was sinking to his knees.

“I’ve got something else in mind first,” he growled, moving her legs apart, grinning at what was between them, heat and delicate, flushed skin and hair beading with dew drops of water.

As his tongue made contact with her clit, Eliza threw her head back and everything else was momentarily forgotten.

-

George Washington had implemented a new rule; Alex was allowed to stay at work until seven in the evenings as long as he took at least one long weekend every month. And seeing as Angelica and John were in the States for a few days and Peggy had been briefly coaxed back home, they were spending this month’s forced vacation in Albany at the Schuyler mansion. A house full of noisy children and very opinionated people had been fun for a few days but Eliza had decided to take advantage of the available babysitting and sneak off with Alex for a while. So they’d left the other Schuylers still debating the finer points of President Adams’ fiscal policy in the drawing room and ventured out into the night for a walk.

“I used to do this all the time when I was younger, sneak out and go wandering when I was stressed or my family got a bit much,” Eliza smiled as they meandered away from the light of the house.

“With a boy on your arm?” Alex replied, joking but unable to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

Eliza rolled her eyes at him; she was used to this part of his personality, used to having to soothe it and fight his lack of self-esteem, “No, this is a welcome addition.”

He smiled a little self consciously as she squeezed his hand.

They reached the fringes of the forest areas, the wilder part of the Schuyler grounds, the ones Eliza had always loved playing in most. It had felt like another world to little Eliza, a hidden world away from everything else, with trees instead of buildings and a ceiling of leaves instead of sky. She’d planted wildflowers in the meadows hidden there and learned their Latin names when she was barely seven. She’d climbed the trees and set up small dens in the boughs, playing as a fairy or a pirate or a jungle explorer with her sisters or alone, lying on her back in the dappled shade and reading for hours on end. It had been a little odd when she’d first brought Alexander here, back when they were dating in college; it had been like two very different halves of her life were colliding.

Almost the instant they were out of sight of the mansion, under the cover of the pines, Alex pulled Eliza towards him, kissing her deeply, almost lifting her off her feet as they leant against a tree. Eliza responded in kind, clasping him to her, hitching her leg up to his hip, knotting her fingers in his loose hair.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Alex gasped breathlessly when they finally pulled away.

“Then why’d you stop?” Eliza teased, the moonlight sparkling in her dark eyes, making Alex’s knees weak.

He laughed, his voice lowered until it was almost a growl, his breath warm on her face, smelling like coffee and a little like whiskey. She pressed her lips to his again, hungrily, kissing like he was oxygen and she was suffocating. His tongue darted against her’s as he pulled her body to him, wanting to feel nothing, to taste nothing, to know nothing but his Eliza. Every break for air was filled with his words, his moans how she was so beautiful, so sexy, how he wanted her, needed her, loved her more than anything else in the world. Eliza would have burst out laughing if she wasn’t so distracted by his hands and his lips; he was physically incapable of shutting up. It was adorable.

“Do you want to…?” Alex murmured as he paused at her neck, letting his words trail away as he sank his teeth gently into her silken skin, unsure how far she was willing to go, barely out of sight of her parent’s house.

“I brought a blanket,” she grinned devilishly, squirming out of his embrace to reach for the backpack she’d brought.

“I love how organised you are,” he sighed happily, leaning back against the tree and enjoying the view as she bent to spread the rug over the carpet of leaves, “It’s such a fucking turn on.”

She straightened, narrowing her eyes at him, “You’re just saying that.”

“Oh?” he shot back challengingly, pouncing on her, laying her out on the blanket, straddling her, grinding his pelvis against hers’, “I’ll prove it to you.”

And he did, three times, under the leaves and the stars, her screams echoing ecstatically between the trees as her nails left long angry marks on his back.

They returned to the house almost an hour and a half later, giggling like teenagers, with leaves in their hair and dirt under their fingernails, Alex’s jumper on backwards and Eliza’s underwear in her jeans pocket.

And a small mass of cells rapidly dividing and growing in her womb.

-

It had been a frankly murderous day at the office, one long and tiring enough to leave even Alex yawning as he approached his front door. With the election on the horizon, there were more and more days like this, ones that didn’t end until the sun went down and Alex had blisters on his writing hand. It would be worth it in the end though, he reminded himself.

Phillip and Angie would be in bed, he thought regretfully as he fumbled with the front door. He’d be sure to sneak into their rooms and give them a goodnight kiss though; he’d spent far, far too many lonely nights as a child to even think of neglecting that duty. Eliza should have been in bed (she hadn’t got much sleep last night and got cranky as hell when she was tired) but he wasn’t surprised at all to see a light still on their bedroom. She always waited up for him.

He scanned the room but she wasn’t in her chair or in the bed…oh. The light was coming from the little bathroom.

“Eliza?” he called softly as he shrugged out of his jacket, “I’m home.”

“Alex?” It was definitely Eliza’s voice but it sounded so weak and strained, “Alex, can you come in here please?”

His face was tight with worry when he appeared in the doorway. Eliza was sat on the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, deep bruise like shadows under her eyes, her skin ashen. She’d clearly thrown up at least once.

But despite all that, she was smiling so beautifully. Alex understood instantly. His hand went to his mouth, his jacket falling to the ground.

“I think we did it,” Eliza said faintly. Her hand went to the lower part of her stomach.

Alex was crying by the time he got to his knees in front of his wife and hugged her, his tears of joy soaking her jumper.

“We did it,” Eliza repeated in a hoarse whisper, smiling widely as she felt his hand join hers in welcoming their baby.

 -

There was no good time to be five months pregnant really but during a heat wave in the middle of New York City definitely was one of the worst. It had been going on for nearly a week now and Eliza’s mood had been understandably foul.

“You asleep?” Alex whispered into the humid darkness, over his shoulder.

Eliza had her back to him; he could see her muscles tense like knotted ropes. She was completely naked, her hair pulled away from her clammy skin in a tight bun and she was on top of the covers rather than under them but still her pale skin radiated an angry kind of heat.

“No,” she sighed bitterly.

The clock declared it to be nearly one in the morning but clearly, in this heat, no one was getting any sleep.

“Right,” Alex declared, sitting bolt upright, “Drastic action.”

“What on earth are you doing?” Eliza groaned as he threw back the blanket and started pulling on clothes.

“Come on, just trust me,” her husband said, throwing her an old t-shirt and some shorts.

Eliza complained and whined but, ten minutes later, when she was out on the fire escape in the night breeze, her hands around a chilled glass of water, she had to admit Alex was right.

Of course they weren’t really supposed to be out there, of course their landlord would have a fit if she knew but it was irresistible. Both of them loved being able to see so much of the city, especially at night, when it was nothing more than scattered squares of illuminated windows thrown across the bruise purple of the sky. It reminded Eliza of the trees she used to climb up in Albany. It reminded Alex of the dunes he used to climb back in Vega Alta. But this rickety, creaking metal version had each other, making it so much better.

Eliza got to her feet, tiptoeing right to the edge, the edge she would always hurriedly pull Phillip and Angie away from. A light breeze caught her stray hairs as she wound one arm around the upper level so she could lean right out into the empty space. She sighed happily, the sound catching on the wind and winding away.

Alex, sat on the windowsill, bit down on his bottom lip and forcing himself not to tell her to be careful, not to pull her back. Eliza had already been forced to remind him once that day that just because she was pregnant didn’t mean she was made of glass and tissue paper. Instead he just watched her, his eyes running up and down the length of her, still scarcely able to believe that this woman had given him her heart. What had he done to deserve her, her wondered.

Eliza turned to him, leaning back against the balcony, her eyes bright.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, “I needed this. Sorry for being a jerk.”

Alex shook his head, “Come on, you don’t need to apologise. I understand.”

She smiled prettily, putting her glass on the stairs so she could stretch the aches out of her arms like an enormous cat. Alex tilted his head interestedly, studying her.

“Hey,” he grinned, “I think you’re starting to show.”

Eliza blinked, running her hand over her belly. There was a definite curve to it, the first outward sign of the life taking shape under her skin. Alex always seemed to notice before she did.

“Oh? Oh yeah,” she laughed, a little taken aback, more than a little amazed. She thought she’d get used to this, that it would cease to take her breath away and leave her dizzy, but apparently not.

There was so much emotion in Alexander, so much feeling; he didn’t think it was even called pride any more. It was something deeper than that. He tried to speak but the words caught in his throat. Eliza laughed in disbelief, it wasn’t often her husband was lost for words. He blushed and shrugged apologetically.

She stretched out her hand, which he took eagerly and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and into a tight hug. The baby was a hard, smooth roundness between their bodies as he sighed sleepily but happily into her hair. He’d been working so much lately; it felt like ages since they’d just taken a moment to be together, to snatch an instant of safety in each other’s arms.

“Hey,” Eliza murmured into the hollow of his throat, “What are we naming this one? We used up our boy name and our girl name.”

“Babe, do you really think it’s a good idea to come up with a name for our child at one in the morning?” Alex yawned.

“One in the morning seems to be the only time we get to talk,” Eliza said quietly. She hadn’t really meant for Alex to hear but he did and he stiffened a little. Both of them felt guilty; Eliza for saying it, Alex because he knew it was true. He squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Here’s an idea, Alexander,” she said, drawing out his full name, rolling her voice over the whole length of it, the way she knew he liked. She rested her chin on his chest so she could look him in the eyes, “And I’m being perfectly serious.”

He raised his eyebrows, wanting badly to kiss her but knowing this wasn’t the time.

“If it’s a boy…I want to name him after you.”

“Huh?” Alex’s jaw fell open.

“We named Phillip after my father but I want to name our next son Alexander Junior. I want him to have your name.”

Alex looked like he might cry, though whether that was because he was happy or sad, Eliza didn’t know. Alex didn’t know either.

“I…I, um, Eliza, that’s…really, uh, flattering…but I…”

She stepped back, combing her hand through his hair, knowing that always helped to calm him down when he got worked up.

“You’d better untie your tongue before Monday or Jefferson will tear you apart,” she teased as she wound a lock of dark hair around her finger, “That’s twice you’ve been speechless tonight.”

Alex’s shoulders slumped, “Eliza, you don’t want to name our child after me.”

“I knew you’d say that but listen-“

“Eliza, please,” Alex interrupted her, his face anxious, “Honestly, our children are the most important things in the world to me, and I love them more than anything. So why name one after me? Why name one after…after the guy who can’t shut up, the guy who got kicked out of the army, the guy who…who only manages to function because he has _you._ ”

Eliza studied him with her dark eyes, her eyes that looked older than she was.

“I’m hardly something to look up to,” he finished lamely, looking miserably at his bare feet.

Eliza took a deep sigh. She’d expected this. For all the bravado and confidence he showed in his work and his writings, there was a lot of insecurity in Alexander, insecurity and uncertainty that she spent half her life fighting against. She gently pushed him back so he was sitting down again. She knelt in front of him so they were face-to-face, eye-to-eye.

“Alexander Hamilton,” she said firmly, smiling gently, “I want to name my son after the man who had the strength to fight for everything he had, who had so much tragedy in his life but still loves with everything he has. I think the kind of man who can change the world with his words alone but still finds that time to learn how to braid so he can do his daughter’s hair is exactly the kind of man I want my son to grow up to be. I want him to be just like his father.”

Okay, now Alex was definitely crying. His hands found her’s, clasping them tightly, and he brought them up to his lips.

“I love you,” he said, his shoulders shaking.

“I love you too,” she smiled.

She shivered suddenly; the night air was raising goose bumps on her bare skin.

“I think I’m ready to go to bed,” Eliza said as she stifled a yawn. She clambered back to her feet, pulling Alex with her, who nodded in agreement (he was still silently crying a little too hard to actually speak).

It was still stifling indoors but Alex and Eliza said what the hell and went back to their usual sleeping position, wrapped in each other’s arms, Alex’s head pillowed on Eliza’s chest, her fingers tangled in his hair. The extra body heat meant they had to dispense with the duvet entirely, as well as their clothes, which neither of them was going to complain about.

“Okay,” Alex muttered, a few minutes after he’d turned out the light, “I have a compromise.”

“Hmm?” Eliza was almost asleep but she forced herself to wake up a little.

“If it’s a boy, we’ll name it after me…but if it’s a girl, we’re going to name it after you,” he said, raising his head so she could see his eyes glittering in the dark, “For the exact same reasons.”

Eliza opened her mouth to say something, maybe to protest but she stopped. He had her. She laughed quietly, the sound heavy in the darkness.

“Okay. Deal.”

-

Eliza was reluctant to sleep and take her eyes off of her newborn for even a moment but she couldn’t hide how her eyelids were heavy and the dark shadows under her eyes. She desperately needed a sleep; no one could say she hadn’t earned it.

“We’ll still be here when you wake up,” Alex promised, still with tear tracks on his tired face. It was becoming simply an accepted fact that he was going to spend a good few hours after the birth of each of his children with tears silently running down his cheeks.

He held his newest child to his chest, cradling him in the crook of his arms with a comfortable, easy confidence, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eliza still remembered how he’d shaken like a leaf when he was handed his first son, strangely terrified of the delicate little thing in his arms. But still, both times, then and now, he smiled at them with more joy in his face than Eliza had ever seen before. So she allowed herself to curl up, holding herself carefully, her body still aching and bleeding and stinging in a hundred different places but she didn’t feel it so much now.

Alex sat on the side of the bed as Eliza drifted away, still holding one of her hands in his. Once she was asleep, as she’d stay, almost unmoving for the next ten hours, he got to his feet, careful not to jostle the baby in his arms. He wandered over to the window, getting it in his head to show the child its first glimpse of the world he’d just entered.

“So, Alex Junior,” he mused, happily, getting used to the sound and feel of his name being applied to someone else, “I suppose we’ll have to call you Al for short or something so we don’t get confused.”

The baby shifted in his sleep, pulling a face.

“No? Okay, we’ll have a think,” Alex smiled, holding him closer.

The sun was setting. The buildings had turned jet black as the vast orange sun sank out of view behind them, like trees in some bizarre forest. That gave Alex an idea for a bedtime story for his kids and he smiled triumphantly. He read them storybooks obviously but he knew they liked his made up ones better. He put on silly voices and would dance around the room with wild gestures, loving how they’d laugh and beg him to keep going, even when it was hours past their bedtime.

He still remembered one of the proudest moments of his life was just like this, when Eliza was sleeping off giving birth to Phillip and he’d found himself left alone and bewildered with this tiny human who he’d helped make. He’d just had the woman who he’d drunk cuddled with and watched Disney films with turn into the mother of his child before his eyes, he’d had his entire inner circuitry rewritten to centre around his son and he’d been terrified. So he’d done what he’d always done- he talked. And the newborn Phillip had loved it; he’d gone from fussing and squawking to calming almost instantly with only his father’s voice. Alex’s jaw had been on the floor when the doctor had explained.

“He’s been listening to your voice for nine months now. Of course he knows you.”

That had floored him six years ago and it still did now, as his voice soothed Alex Jr to sleep. He felt himself begin to cry again as he gazed at his namesake’s sleeping face, too tired to keep back the tears.

“I promise, little Alex, I’ll make this a name you can be proud of. I’ll do everything I can,” he murmured hoarsely as he pressed a gentle kiss to the infant forehead, “I promise.”


	2. After the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alex, please, just let me-“  
> “Let you explain? How the fuck are you going to explain this to me? Are you actually going to stand there and try and justify cheating on mom and telling the whole world about it?”
> 
> Alex Jr had always been proud to carry his father's name. And now? Now he's not so sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little follow up was suggested by someone on tumblr and was just too good to resist. Alex Jr's reactions to the Reynolds Pamphlet and everything that follows.

Alex had thrown his phone across his bedroom about an hour ago and he hadn’t touched it since. But he could see it lighting up, a flurry of texts from his friends, Philip and Angie, his aunts, an avalanche of Twitter notifications. Maybe there were even a few from his mom. Alex knew he should call her; she’d left the house some time ago, they’d all heard the door slam shut, he needed to know she was okay. But in that storm of messages, there would definitely be some from him.

And Alex knew he couldn’t face _him_ right now.

Alex just couldn’t understand why he’d done it. His parents has seemed so happy together, they’d always be holding hands, kissing each other’s cheeks as they passed, grinning at each other and exchanging glances, so much so that their kids would often get embarrassed by it. None of them had ever had any cause to doubt that their mom and their dad loved each other, that they loved them. And now his dad had gone and ruined it, shattered everything they’d had into a million pieces. Alex had never realized how fortunate he’d been until now, as he was staring at the burnt remains of what he’d had. It stung.

And now his dad had gone and told the world what he’d done. Ninety fucking pages on his goddamn blog. Detailing everything. Alex had seen the link jump up on his dad’s Twitter and he remembered frowning, thinking no, no, he wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have been so stupid, surely, so selfish, so hurtful. He’d managed to hang onto that one desperate thought until about halfway through his dad’s confession, until he’d simply snapped. _Most of them in my own house_ … Hearing those words in his dad’s low, melodious voice, the voice that would always say his name so proudly, that would always remember to tell his son that he loved him before he left for work. That was when he’d thrown his phone across the room, when the tears had started burning in his eyes. He’d just curled up into a tight ball on his bed and cried.

 

It had always given Alex a funny feeling, to see his own name in the newspapers and to hear the new anchors say it whenever his dad was talked about, which was pretty often. He’d never been quite certain what it was, whether it was pride or embarrassment or whatever but it had been there and it was his.

He remembered being very young, young enough to be sat on his dad’s knee one Saturday morning, watching the news with him (their deal was one half hour of cartoons for fifteen minutes of the rolling news channel; his dad had always insisted on his kids keeping up with current events).

“Daddy, why do they keep talking about me?” he’d frowned, confused, “They keep saying my name?”

His dad had laughed, Alex remembered feeling the vibration through his chest.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, they’re talking about me. It’s just because we have the same name,” he’d explained, lazily stroking his son’s dark curls, trying not to spill his coffee on him.

That hadn’t sufficed for five-year-old Alex. “But your name’s daddy?” he’d insisted, his little face furrowing.

Alex remembered his dad smiling fondly, “That’s what you guys call me. But my name is Alexander Hamilton, just like you. When you were born, mommy and I decided to call you Alexander Junior. So you’re named after me. Does that make sense?”

“But why? Did you and mommy run out of names?”

His dad had smirked, “I think we’re going to start running out, actually, if we’re not careful.” His mom had been pregnant with James at the time, Alex remembered.

His dad’s voice had gone quiet, sincere. He’s set his coffee cup down so he could wrap his arms around his son.

“But no, I shared my name with you because…well, because I love you. And because I’m proud of you and I know you’re going to be amazing when you grow up. So I wanted you to have my name too. So you’d always remember that.”

And from then on, whenever some kid at school would tease him for his name or people would raise his eyebrows whenever his dad did something controversial, Alex would shrug it off and remember those words, smiling to himself.

But now? Now he thought of his own name and felt sick. What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

 

He didn’t think he’d fallen asleep, such a thought had seemed impossible after everything, but the next thing he was aware of, he was jerking back into consciousness as someone knocked at his door.

Still confused, still half asleep, all he could think of was that it must be his mom. Coming to check on him, coming to tell him that she was okay and everything was going to work out, everything was fine. So he scrambled to his feet and lurched towards his bedroom door eagerly. But when he flung it open, of course it wasn’t his mom. It was his dad.

Alex’s first thought was that his dad looked really ill. Not even his usual air of overworked exhaustion, his eyes were red and raw, his hair was hanging limp, and the circles under his eyes were like bruises. Alex couldn’t stop the automatic flare of sympathy in his chest, the itch to reach out and hug his dad and ask if he was okay. He stamped down on that very quickly, the flood of anger and confusion extinguishing it almost instantly.

“Son-“ his dad began, sounding so desperately sad.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, venom in his voice, anger he hadn’t even realized had been there until his dad was stood in front of him. It was that moment of sympathy. He didn’t want to feel sorry for his dad, he was furious. He wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt all of them.

And he’d succeeded. His dad flinched like he’d been physically struck in the chest.

“Alex, please, just let me-“

“Let you explain? How the fuck are you going to explain this to me? Are you actually going to stand there and try and justify cheating on mom and telling the whole world about it?” he could feel his volume climbing, his fists tightening.

Whatever resolve his dad had come to his son with, it had crumbled, “Alex, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, you don’t even know but, please, Alex-“

“DON’T CALL ME THAT,” Alex screamed, the noise bursting from him before he could stop it.

There was a silence. Noiseless tears ran down his father’s devastated face. Alex regretted his words immediately but his fury didn’t die, his muscles didn’t relax, his expression didn’t change. He just couldn’t hear that name again; to be reminded of everything he’d had that his dad had taken away from him.

“Okay,” his dad murmured after a long while, his voice barely audible, “I understand.”

Alex felt the last chance to apologise, to take back what he’d said, slip through his fingers as his dad turned away and walked quickly down the corridor to his office. The door shut behind him but even through the space, Alex heard as his dad collapsed on the sofa in his office and began to sob. He dived back into his bedroom, slamming the door hard, running to his bed and hiding under the blanket, hoping that would block that sound but even then he could still hear it, echoing in his brain.

He hated this. He hated this so much. How had this happened?

Through his own crying, Alex heard the door open, heard the footsteps up to his bed. The mattress sank as Philip sat heavily next to him, he felt his brother’s hand reach out and start to stroke his back. He must have heard the whole exchange from his own room.

“It’s going to be okay, Al. It’s going to be okay,” he murmured in a low, mournful voice.

Alex reached out, blinded by tears and wrapped his arms around his older brother, “It’s not. How is it going to be okay?”

Philip took a deep shaky breath, “I…I don’t know. But it is. I promise. I’ve got you.”

 

-

 

Philip had lied to him, Alex thought mournfully as he sat on the sofa, still shaking, still reeling from everything that had just happened. Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

It still hadn’t sunken in. Philip, his big brother, his best friend, one of the pillars of his whole life. Just gone. Just like that.

It couldn’t be real. This just couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t fair.

Before he really understood what he was doing, Alex found himself getting to his feet and moving towards the kitchen. His dad was sat at the kitchen table, looking like more of a ghost that a human man, without any life, any color. He didn’t even look up when his son came into the room, he only seemed to notice when he was right by his side.

“Alex?” his voice sounded so far away, his eyes looked like he was seeing something else entirely, “Son…”

“Dad,” he sighed, “Dad, I’m sorry.”

His father’s face crumpled, “No, no, Alex please, you don’t ever have to…you don’t need to apologise to- to me.”

He opened his mouth but the words weren’t there. He just hugged his dad as tightly and he possibly could, burying his face in his shoulder while his dad’s shaking hand came up to stroke his hair, just like when he was little.

Alex wasn’t his dad. He was his own person; he’d follow his own path. But he loved his dad and that wasn’t going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on tumblr, quantum-oddity

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so I'm on tumblr under quantum-oddity if you want to cry over this pairing with me!


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